


When the Past Haunts

by bitchbehumble



Series: The Story of Eames [1]
Category: Eames - Fandom, Inception (2010), Tom Hardy - Fandom
Genre: Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Rough Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchbehumble/pseuds/bitchbehumble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames coincidentally runs into a woman from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Past Haunts

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit Sexual Content

He watched out from over his hotel balcony, viewing the skyline of pinks, oranges and purples as the sun was setting over the horizon, the ocean an exotic transparent shade of turquoise, and the salty fresh water smell through out the air. He sips his sweet expensive bourbon, wrapped in a thick fluffy hotel towel around his waist, hair wet and tossed, reflecting on his full and extensive life. 

Eames is a man who has seen the world. He's a magnificent lover, but he knows and keeps his boundaries and limits. He's loved, but it's not his style, no. He's a drifter, a loner, with no rules other than his own. Life on his own terms is how he lives, is his moto. He prefers the dream world rather than reality. He's a man of control and where else rather than the dream world can he have this. The dream world is also his means of work and money. And not because he's good at it but because the art that lies behind it. Eames is a thief, forger and master-mind-manipulator. A well-rounded self-taught criminal who has never be caught, in the dream world, or reality. He's a brilliant man, and in all aspects of his being. 

From behind he hears the shower silence of a woman he had just possessed. A woman whom he never thought would have been in this future. She was forbidden, no absolution for the love they beheld. 

"William?"

A name he hadn't heard in over 2 decades. His hidden past had found him. He now lived a completely different life than what he left behind. Eames... is all he knew, all anyone knew. But this woman... she knew more. 

"William?" she said again, wrapping her arms underneath his arms and around his chest, tickling at his golden curly hair. She pressed against the back of Eames' body, wrapped in a thick cotton bathrobe. He turned to her, she pressed her lips to his, swiping her lips along his to a kiss, his lips and mouth burning of the sweet bourbon. 

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, sensing his distance. Her voice soft with the same rich accent as his own. He glared at her, looking over her matured features. Her eyes wide and blue, her peach skin, her pale blonde wet hair sweeping just passed her shoulders. She was beautiful, as beautiful as he remembered.

"I'm thinking about how I shouldn't of brought you here?" he said quietly, looking into her eyes.

"Why... are you thinking such a thing?" The woman took a step back from Eames and laughed. "Surely, that didn't matter a few hours ago, why now?" Eames stood smug, swigged back the rest of his bourbon from his glass. 

"Darling, I'm not the same man you once knew." 

"I gathered that... darling," she spat back, with a condescending tone. She sat at the edge of the bed, a bed that was a bumbled mess of their earlier passion. "Do you think I'm the same?"

"You don't understand... my name is not William. My name is Eames. In fact, I prefer you call me Eames and not William... I live a dangerous life darling, one you wouldn't understand."

"Eames?" she questioned, with a raised eyebrow. "What kind of name is that? And why on earth did you change your name? What kind of life could you possibly be leading... William?" she tested him, daring him. 

Eames walked to her, wrapped his hands around her legs and flipped her on her back. He knelt between her legs and laid on top of her, a hand gripping around her throat, staring sternly into her startled eyes. 

"Listen to me... you calling me by that name, will only cause danger for the both of us. Do you hear me?" He slowly let her loose, as his eyes glared like shards of lightening into her frightened eyes, threatening her. 

"Get off of me!" The woman struggled, bewildered by his behavior. They both stood, the woman tightening her robe, as it came loose from the flip. "It makes no sense to call you Eames... I don't understand," she said, pleading. 

"Like I said... you wouldn't understand, Cerah," the first he'd spoke her name. He turned to the bar and began to poor more boubon. 

"Explain to me? Please? I want to understand," she begged. 

"The less you know... the better... and that's all I'm going to say about it." His back to her, he took a drink and turned to face her once more. "After tonight, I think it's best you leave and forget all this," he said, swaying his glass in hand, motioning to all that had taken place in the last few hours. Cerah came to Eames, rested her hands on his bare chest.

"How can I just walk away now? Just forget? After finding you like this? How can 'you', walk away?" she asked, urging for answers. "If it's so dangerous, 'why did' you bring me here? It would have been easier if you'd just pretended not to have recognized me, remembered me." She reached for his face with a hand, grasping his stubbled jaw line and angled him to look directly to her. "Don't you remember? Remember how much we loved each other? The love we shared?" She leaned in and kissed him, hoping to remind him. He was emotionless, withdrawn. 

"We were 19, love. And I remember you choosing your family. Don't you?" he stated and asked, raising an eyebrow to her.

"That's not fair. You know I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did," he quickly corrected her. "You had a choice, like I had a choice, you stayed, I didn't." Eames was annoyed with the conversation. Cerah looked about the room, disappointed, wondering where to go from here. Wondering what the point of all this was, if it wasn't to be the beginning of something. 

Cerah slowly removed her robe, watching Eames, watch her. She held out a hand.

"Come to me... please? You said, 'after tonight'... yes?" 

He came to her, looking over her slender naked body. He wrapped her in his arms and put his mouth to her ear.

"After tonight, yes. Trust me Cerah, it could never work now." 

His voice and touch made her shudder against him. She clamped her eyes shut and began to kiss him, deeply, passionately. Eames loosened the towel from around his waist, to fall to the floor. He picked Cerah up by the legs and laid her to the bed, kissing her, his wet bourboned tongue sliding and twirling against hers. The tip of his cock tickling at Cerah's thigh, as he hovered over her, fully erect. With her hands, she forced pressure on his shoulders, to urge him to lay upon her. She wanted him, she couldn't stand to wait any longer, she needed him, to feel him. She raised her hips against him, hoping he would give in and take her as he did earlier. 

The heat rose between their bodies, as he ravished her body with kisses, sucking, licking, biting. The longer he took, the more she writhed beneath him, the ache and heat oozing from between her legs. He bit down on one of her perfectly shaped beaded nipples, she gasped to the sharp pain, throwing her head back against the bed and he soothed with the slithering of his tongue. He toyed with her, teased her, made her beg. 

"Please..." she breathed. 

As much as he was teasing her, he was teasing himself. His thick, heavy, hardened cock, had her name all over it, pulsating to every whimpering noise she made. 

"William... please?" she breathed louder.

Eames immediately grabbed the back of her neck, she gasped to the tight hold, he spread her legs with his own, as wide as he could, and shoved himself inside her, full, rough and hard. She gasped again to his sudden, aggressive fill. She was being punished. 

"You are going to call me Eames, if I have to fuck it into you... hmmm," he said, grunting into her ear.

Eames thrusts again, into her as hard as he could, still holding her neck, pausing at each thrust and fill. She secretly enjoyed this. This wasn't the man she remembered, nor was it the man who owned her earlier. This made her want more and he gave it to her, he knew she was defying him, and he continued to pound her. She cried out but still, not giving in to this name, this name she wouldn't accept. A thought flashed to say his given name once more, what would he do? 

"Will...iam..." she cried, with his pumps into her.

Eames stopped dead, Cerah held her breath, slightly frightened. 

"Hmmm... So you're enjoying this you little slut," he graveled. 

Eames pulled out and off her, flipped her on her stomach, yanked her hands together behind her back, her face to the mattress, and shoved back into her, pounding her, over and over. She screamed, over and over, but not Eames, not the name he wanted to hear. 

"Say it... say it slut!" he yelled. 

Cerah still didn't want to give in, this excited her, made her hotter, made her wetter, made the build up inside her come to a height she had never been to before. Eames holding her wrists with one hand, took his other and wrapped around the front of her neck and thrushes her again. She wailed, burning tears dripping from her eyes as he thrashed her into the bed, in his submission. Finally...

"Eames... Eames... Ohhh... Eames..." she hollered. All the chills and shivers coursed through her body, as she released massively on his cock. Her muscles contracting around him and her yelling his name, drew his own melt down from him. He convulsed, groaned, slamming into her, until he was sure to have drained every bit of his hot bourbon infused milk in side her. 

They collapse to the bed, Eames over top of Cerah, his arms shaking trying to hold a bit of weight off of her. They pant, inhaling and exhaling almost simultaneously, sweat and tears rolling from off of them. Eames laughed under his catching breath. 

"Who'd a thought you were such a naughty girl... hmmm... my little slut?" 

"Hmmm..." she murmured back, grinning.

Eames pulled from her and rolled to the side of her, reaching for her, to have her wrapped in his arms and to his chest. Cerah curled to him, holding him, she was exhausted, her eyes heavy. Eames held her, staring at the dark ceiling above him, thinking. Thinking of when he first saw her that day, and she saw him, they stared at one another, through the covered streets of locals and travelers. He'd never thought he would have seen her in Mombasa, let alone Kenya. Within moments, with very little words, they were in each others arms, and making way to his hotel room, 20 or so years of dispair. He thought about how it was wrong, and how he knew better. Eames wasn't a man of guilt and shame, and he would be damned if this would get to him. 

The warm breeze rushing in from over the ocean, eased him, rested him, although he knew in his mind what he had to do, what needed to be done. But for now, he held Cerah and they laid together, all through the night.

***

The next morning, Eames stood over the bed, watching Cerah sleep. The sky still mostly dark. He'd showered and was dressed in a fine tailored suit, bags next to the door. Without anymore thought, he left. 

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, push for the main floor and it was then... as he looked through the elevator mirror to himself. He felt the sting of leaving Cerah, the tug at his heart, his jaw clinched, trying to ignore the feeling and he looked away. 

Cerah woke to sunlight, yet hadn't opened her eyes. She reached for Eames... William to her... but she knew... he was gone. Again. She wasn't angry, she wasn't hurt, she knew he loved her. But Eames didn't know Cerah anymore than she knew him now. Even though, this may have been a coincidental run-in, she was bound to him and she would find him.


End file.
